Really a matter of Perception
by Yuu-chi
Summary: Before Wade, Peter never would have called being serenaded by My Little Pony at four in the morning romantic. Wade/Peter Spideypool


**Really a matter of Perception**_**  
**_

Just past four in the morning is far too early for the phone to be ringing, Peter decides as he groggily rolls over and fumbles blindly in the dark. He'd been in bed, what, about an hour now, if that? Between having to submit some mashed up scenery photography to appease his teacher and crash-tackling a would-be bank robber into a fountain, it'd been kind of a late night.

Rough, too, if the way his body protested loudly as he rolled over and jammed his phone up against his ear was any indication.

"H'llo?"

"Oh good, you're awake!"

Four o'clock might be too early for a phone call, true, but it was even earlier to be talking to Wade. Peter needs at least eighty percent of his brain cells to be functioning before he can even pretend to be making heads or tails of half the stuff that comes out of Wade's mouth.

"I'm hanging up," Peter returns sleepily – whatever it is Wade wants to tell him can wait a few hours, he's sure – and positions his thumb to mash heavily down on the end-call button.

"What? Why? Was it something I said? This is about the pizza, isn't it?"

Peter opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again to let out an irritated yawn and decides to take the bait. "What pizza?"

On the other end of the static-filled line Wade makes a pleased sound, and then a slightly less pleased sound as a loud thump rings out behind him and the distant hush of shouting echoes back down the line.

Instantly alert, Peter pulls himself upright in bed, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear as he scrabbles around for a light switch. Brightness spills thick and buttery across the dark room, a small hallo of yellow that encompasses Peter's bed and makes him squeeze his eyes closed just a little.

"Wade? Are you okay?"

"Dandy as a dandelion; just shh for a moment."

'Dandy as a dandelion' could mean any number of things in Wade Speak, but Peter obeys the order for silence and quietly sits still – like the slightest rustle in fabric might sound loud in the noiseless room – listening to the soft breath of Wade down the other end.

There's another loud thump and then radio-silence.

"There." Wade sounds pleased again and Peter is inclined to be a little worried about this.

"What?"

"Oh, you know. I'm not actually sure, but they're probably looking for me."

Peter licks his chapped lips and rolls his eyes. "What did you do? Should I worry?"

"Nothing." Wade's tone is a little more serious this time and they've known each other long enough for Peter to be able to translate 'nothing' to 'work'. 'Nothing' means Wade is Deadpool right now, off on a job Peter probably won't approve of. 'Nothing' means that Wade didn't call him at four in the morning just so they could fight over it. 'Nothing' means Peter can probably expect Wade to be crawling in his window in a couple of hours all gleeful smiles behind his mask and splattered in blood.

So he doesn't ask; instead he settles back against the lumpy pillows of his bed, sighs, and offers in resignation, "Pizza?"

Wade picks up the new topic flawlessly and Peter isn't entirely sure whether it's because he's eager to get away from talking about 'nothing' or if that special Wade Wilson brand of insanity means he never truly left the topic.

"If you don't know yet, don't worry; it's not permanent."

"What isn't? The pizza?"

"That too," Wade agrees cheerfully. "It's just because I thought you'd miss me."

"I saw you yesterday," Peter yawns, glancing at his clock to see it's slowly inching closer to four-thirty than he'd really like.

"That long?" Wade marvels into the phone and even Peter can't help the small smile that pulls at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. That long."

"Oh, wow. No wonder I cheated."

"You _what_?"

"I tried not to – but that _pizza_. Do you think the tacos will ever forgive me?"

Peter scrubs one tired hand over and equally tired face and tries to follow the train that is Wade's logic. He's sure this probably makes sense inside his head, but it's really far too early to have Peter's heart stopping and starting so much.

"Wade, I'm really kind of tired and I have to get up early in the morning."

"I know."

Peter raises an eyebrow and stifles another yawn. "You do?"

"Of course I do, Spidey." Wade sounds deeply amused. "I memorized your schedule ages ago."

"That's a little creepy."

"No it's not."

"… Yeah, alright, it's not; but it probably should be."

Wade chuckles and the sound is oddly distorted through the phone's static. Absently, Peter wonders where Wade is and if it's four in the morning there too. He curls up silently beneath the thick bedcovers and burrows his face into his pillows 'Ah-huh-ing' and 'Mmhm-ing' in all the right places. He begins to drift again.

"Pete? You there?"

"… Mmhm."

It goes silent for a moment and it takes Peter a full minute to realize that Wade isn't talking. He doesn't really want to spur him back into chatter but a quiet Wade is a little disconcerting so he sighs and tries to muster up enough enthusiasm to ask; "Wade? You still there?"

"Want me to sing you to sleep?"

Peter blinks and tried to deduce whether Wade's serious or not. However, Wade's always serious; even when everyone else thinks he's joking.

"I think I'll be fine."

"No seriously, I have the voice of an angel. Or that might have been an angle. I'm not sure, but seriously; I do an awesome rendition of My Little Pony."

"Really, Wade, I'm good."

"We good to go then?"

"Wade – ."

"My Little Pony, My Little Pony – ."

" – Wade –."

" – I used to wonder what friendship could be, until you all shared it's magic with meeee –."

Peter rolls his eyes, mutters some vague threat about hanging up but settles back into his bed with the out of tune whining of Wade ringing sharply in his ears. He'd never particularly imagined there would be a day he'd be serenaded at the crack of dawn but a horribly garish kids show he could barely look at without feeling the need to seizure – better yet, he never thought he'd _enjoy _it.

Tucking the phone idly into the crook of his neck, Peter rolls over and jams his hand beneath his pillow – only to feel something foreign and gooey and oddly stringy jerk beneath his fingers. Slowly, Peter pulls his hand free and cautiously lifts up his pillow.

A mess of tomato and cheese rests innocently on his sheets in all its pizza-ry glory.

" – _And magic makes it all complete,_" Wade warbled and Peter decided from here on out he was sleeping with his phone off, romanticism be damned.


End file.
